


Dirty Daydreams

by clairelutra (exosolarmoon)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, feat. adrien crushin on ladybug hardcore, hot mess marinette dupain cheng, marinette's (sorta but not really explicit) dirty fantasies, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 16:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: It was kind of funny how one little fact could change your entire worldview.Adrien liked Ladybug.AdrienlikedLadybug, and liked her enough that there was a red and black charm on his keychain and doodles of her initials in hearts in his notebook — enough that he went red and starry-eyed and a little bit breathless when he talked about her, his silly, almost sheepish smile joined by heartfelt praises on his lips.Marinette thought about this as she stared at the back of his head, her face half-buried in her arms and the toll of the past few days of almost non-stop fighting making itself known even through her euphoric excitement.He liked her.Well, okay, he liked the brave, strong, perfect version of herself that the mask allowed her to be, but it was still her.Adrien Agresteliked her.[...]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sooooo who's ready for a huge fic crossposting dump?
> 
> me
> 
> sorry for the spam~

It started with a charm.

A little ladybug charm, dangling from the corner of Adrien’s phone. The charm was a simple replica of her yo-yo and earrings, five black spots on either side, with a black band around the edges, smaller than a euro cent coin. The fastening and handles were a nondescript black, simple and functional.

Marinette had been dying to ask about it ever since Adrien had gotten it.

Did this mean Adrien was a fan of Ladybug? Marinette _desperately_ wanted to know. Did he just like the color red? Was it given to him as a gift and he was just wearing it out of obligation? Was he wearing the charm in some great stand for justice against the red-haters of the world? Or maybe he’d been instructed to wear it as some sort of _secret code_ that marked him as a chosen one when the time was right—

Marinette was going just a little bit crazy.

It wasn’t really _important_ , per se. It just made her stomach flip over to think about Adrien wearing her symbol in any way — which she _realized_ was a silly thing to get tied up over, okay?

It was just…

It was silly — _she_ was silly — but the thought that the charm might be some physical representation of Adrien _liking_ her, that Adrien might _like_ her at all…

She’d been pining for him for far too long _not_ to have her head turned by this sliver of hope.

It was a week before she found out anything else about it, though — and, in the asking, got a lot more than she bargained for.

Hallway collisions were not an uncommon feature of Marinette’s day-to-day life, though her victims were more often walls and doorways than humans, so it’s not exactly a surprise when her late-to-class rush brought her face-to-chest with some (presumably male) classmate of hers.

_Shluff— Clatter— “Oof!”_

“Sorry!”

Bouncing back and stumbling hard, Marinette winced and looked up at the person she’d stumbled into, prepared to give her well-practiced rambling apology…

And then emitted a faint, strained wheeze instead.

Adrien.

She’d bumped into _Adrien._

Oh no oh god oh geez—

He blinked his golden eyelashes at her, perfect red mouth falling open slightly in surprise, looking as angelic and ethereal as ever despite the jostling she’d given him when she’d run into him.

She’d run into him.

_Let her die here._

She tried to say _are you okay?_ and then she tried to say _I’m so fucking sorry_ , and what she came out with was…

“Are you fucking sorry?!”

She _did not deserve to live._

Adrien blinked, drooping and drawing into himself like a skittish fawn, intimidated, and Marinette was officially an _awful, horrible, pathetic excuse for a human being._

“Y-yes?” he tried, big doe eyes wide and half-terrified.

_End Marinette’s life._

Just end it.

Right here.

She’d had a good run, but obviously the stress had gotten to her. She’d snapped. She needed to be put down right now, immediately.

Go on, she didn’t have all day.

Another two seconds passed, in which she determined that whatever greater powers were watching _weren’t_ going to execute her on the spot for her grievous crimes against humanity.

It was up to her alone to fix this.

May those absent deities give her strength.

“I _mean!!”_ She inhaled deeply, sharply, and then wheezed, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so _so_ sorry, oh my god— I didn’t mean to shout and I _really_ didn’t mean to say that and that was awful and I’m so sorry, could you ever forgive—”

“Pffft.”

A quick priorities check placed letting Adrien speak over her own desperate need to apologize, and so Marinette swallowed the rest of her babble with an awful sinking dread of oncoming doom.

“It’s okay,” he said kindly, amused smile winding around his soft lips. “I, ah, know what you meant. Don’t worry about it.”

It was as though choirs had descended from the heavens, celebrating their descended brethren’s divine forgiveness, haloing him in the pale sunbeams filtering in through the windows.

_She was forgiven._

“O-oh,” she stammered, and then belatedly realized that she’d sent his phone and notebook flying. “S-sorry, let me just get that for—”

“Ah!”

Marinette, phone and notebook in either hand, froze at the panicked look flashing across Adrien’s face.

“I-I can, uh, get those,” he said, beautiful mouth quirking into a sheepish, if still worried smile. “Thank you.”

Marinette handed them over without question, her eye catching on the charm dangling from his phone for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.

“So you’re a fan of Ladybug?” slipped right out of her, faux casual.

…Marinette _desperately_ needed to invest in new brain-to-mouth filters.

A flicker of confusion, and then an enchanting shade of faint embarrassment. He scratched behind his ear, a mouth-watering flush blooming on his cheeks. “You could tell, huh?”

“Oh, um,” said Marinette’s mouth while the rest of her brain picked up this information and ran around in headless, _screaming_ circles with it. “I just guessed! F-from the phone charm.”

Adrien’s lovely eyes fell to his phone, and the tiny replica of her yo-yo dangling from it, and then his entire face lit up with a smile so soft and sweet Marinette thought she might faint.

“Yeah,” he murmured, oddly rueful, “I guess you could say I’m a fan.”

“Oh?” It was a noise born of conversational necessity, with Marinette too torn over whether or not she wanted to know more to make the decision consciously.

On one hand, he might really be her fan, and hearing confirmation of it might kill her dead.

On the other hand, the charm could entirely be a gift from a love rival, and then she’d still die — or at least spend a good two days locked in her room and crying in bitter defeat and intense jealousy.

There were probably other outcomes of that particular question, but Adrien spoke before Marinette could come up with any of them.

“She’s _amazing,_ you know?” He hugged the notebook closer to his chest, the defensive tone at odds with the stars in his eyes. “She’s the bravest person I’ve ever—… ever seen, and she’s funny and, I mean, have you _seen_ her?”

“O-once or twice?” Marinette-who-was-Ladybug croaked, on the verge of death, as she’d predicted. She couldn’t feel her legs, her heart was laboring and her lungs were paralyzed and Adrien was _singing her praises_ and _oh god, **what should she do?!**_

Adrien honest-to-god _sighed,_ dazed little smile on his lips, and said, “She’s so beautiful I just don’t know what to _do_ sometimes.”

…This was it.

This was Marinette’s divine retribution.

This was where she paid dearly for upsetting this beautiful creature.

She had to stand around and _listen_ while every inch of her was _dying_ to touch him, taste him, kiss him kiss him _kiss him—_

He appeared to come to his senses, jumping a little and hurriedly tucking his phone into the pocket of his sinfully tight jeans, and then rubbing the back of his head with an even darker blush. “S-sorry about that. I, um, just really lo—… I’m a big fan, I-I guess.”

“Oh no,” said Marinette’s soul from somewhere far removed from her body, frantically picking apart _I just really lo—_ , trying to find any other possible endings that didn’t involve Adrien saying he _loved her._ “Don’t mind me.”

And there was that soft, warm smile again, now all the more devastating for how _present_ it was. “Thank you, Marinette. You’re a good friend.”

His ‘good friend’ emitted a strangled, squeaky, “Shhyep!” that only served to make him smile _wider_ , and Marinette was officially dead, gone, over and _done with._

He turned and tilted his head in invitation. “Were you going to class? I’ll walk you.”

“Thhhhhhhhh…” Marinette attempted to thank him, only to realize he’d thoughtlessly let his notebook tip forward, revealing the top of the open page.

And at the top of that page? Were no less than four different doodled hearts with her initials, 'LB’, signed in the center of each.

…Oh.

“Thanks,” she finished, now firmly on some other plane of existence, and managed to be walked all the way back to her classroom without tackling Adrien to the ground.

Well.

That was certainly more than she’d bargained for.

What did she do now?


	2. Chapter 2

It was kind of funny how one little fact could change your entire worldview.

Adrien liked Ladybug.

Adrien _liked_ Ladybug, and liked her enough that there was a red and black charm on his keychain and doodles of her initials in hearts in his notebook — enough that he went red and starry-eyed and a little bit breathless when he talked about her, his silly, almost sheepish smile joined by heartfelt praises on his lips.

Marinette thought about this as she stared at the back of his head, her face half-buried in her arms and the toll of the past few days of almost non-stop fighting making itself known even through her euphoric excitement.

He liked her.

Well, okay, he liked the brave, strong, perfect version of herself that the mask allowed her to be, but it was still _her_.

Adrien Agreste _liked her_.

Marinette squeezed her eyes shut and bit her tongue against the squeal that wanted to escape, muffling the not-noise in her forearms.

For all the times she’d daydreamed about sneaking into his room late at night, just showing up all dressed up in spots with some flimsy, cast-aside excuse, she’d never stopped to wonder what if…

What if he daydreamed about that too?

And then she had to sort of flinch sideways away from the thought, because the concept of Adrien Agreste actually _wanting_ her to debauch him wasn’t exactly one she should jump into while trying not to doze off in class.

What if she just gave in and asked him for that thank-you kiss she always wanted to ask him for whenever she ended up rescuing him?

Would he like that? Would he take her up on it? Would he kiss her until his lips were swollen and red, until she was pinned against a wall and he was grinding his hips right into where she craved him the most—

Marinette pressed her flushed face a little deeper into her forearms and squirmed in her seat, feeling that familiar hot, restless itch settle into her bones.

—bad train of thought.

Or what if! What if she sneaked into his dressing room instead? She’d say something witty and _perfect_ and he’d laugh his sunshine laugh and things would progress from there somehow, leaving her back pressed against the door to prevent any surprise intruders and Adrien tracing her lips with a gaze like _fire_ , and…

Marinette’s brain happily skipped ahead in the fantasy, showing her images of Adrien on his back on his couch, covered in hickeys and smears of red lipstick, irreparably disheveled by the time his manager called him out to the catwalk.

…Adrien walking down the catwalk like it was a walk of shame, her quiet, polite, reserved classmate deflowered right into a mouth-wateringly hot _mess_.

Into _Ladybug’s_ hot mess.

Marinette swallowed a whine, squeezing her thighs around the burning ache between them.

_Bad train of thought._

Dates! Ladybug could take him on dates! She could take him to an aquarium and they could hold hands and look at the fish together. They could get ice cream! They could watch shows! They could take couple’s selfies and point out silly fish names to each other and make each other laugh until their sides hurt.

…And then they could make out for an hour in an abandoned service alley, his breath washing hot and damp over her throat as she got sick of _waiting_ and slipped a hand into his jeans, pulling a rough groan out of his throat and…

…This wasn’t working.

Marinette forced her eyes open, focusing them on the blackboard as best she could and digging her nails into the flesh of her thigh, burning up from head to toe, itchy and empty and _aching_. 

_Not now_.

“Marinette?”

It took her a second to realize Adrien’s voice wasn’t just another feature of her fantasies.

Flinching belatedly, she wrapped her arms around her chest and squeaked, “Ah, y-y-yeah?”

Adrien winced prettily, apologetically. “Could I borrow a pencil? Mine just broke.”

Marinette handed her own over without a thought, and then had to fight not to melt into the ground at his warm, grateful smile.

“Thanks.”

He liked Ladybug.

He liked _her_.

She wondered if he was going to doodle more hearts with that pencil she gave him.

(And then she wondered what his long, elegant fingers looked like, curled around her pencil, tracing the embossed letters and pressing the tip to the page.)

(And then what they would look like curled around… _other_ things.)

(And _then_ whether he’d be willing to show Ladybug what that looked like, if Ladybug was _very_ good.)

…Marinette had a feeling today was going to be a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> probably a little clunky because it was written out of order, but w/e


End file.
